My Poems

Laws of Love; Turning Tables

We can play but we play for keeps.
Your heart’s on the table.
Do you really trust me?

So we played. I won.
“Best out of three!”
Your valley-filling ego
Was here to compete.

You did. Ego justified.
And so it seeped.
Black blood on the table,
Dripped to my heart’s beat.

Oh.

He expected purity.
As though a pure heart would have any place
In calling check-mate.
His eyes flash with a mixture of hurt and rage.
Why’s he so bothered?
It was only a game.

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